Liz's Epic Search For The Cure For Writer's Block
by The Hash Slinging Slasher
Summary: Liz and the staff come down with a terrible case of writer's block, and it's up to everyone's favorite sketch comedy writer to discover a cure.
1. MindTowel

**Author's Note: **Well, I think this'll be pretty darn awesome.

**Disclaimer: **NBC owns _30 Rock_.

Liz opened the door to Jack's office. Jack was putting a golf ball across a small strip of artificial turf.

"Wow Jack, just when I thought you had used every big-executive cliché in the book," said Liz.

Jack continued despite the mild criticism. "Did you ever play sports Liz?"

"I was the mind-towel girl for my middle school's checkers team," Liz said optimistically.

"I hope you know how pathetic that sounds."

"Oh, I do. I lived it." said Liz, nodding.

"Well, seeing as you're not precognitive, you must've had a reason for coming up here besides reminding me that you're not very athletic."

Liz flopped down on the couch, "No, I'm actually just hiding from my stupid staff."

"Lemon, your staff consists of children and Lutz."

Liz waved her hand spastically.

"What was that?"

"I was trying to casually motion towards the bar for a drink."

Jack poured her a drink. "Don't do that anymore. Now, what did your staff do?"

"They keep trying to get me to write stuff." Liz took her drink in one gulp. Then sputtered, blinked, coughed, then sneezed.

Jack didn't know what to sigh pitifully at, so he rolled his eyes. "Isn't that your job, to 'write stuff?'"

"Well, yeah, but I'm never the sole writer... there's so much pressure..."

"Why are you the sole writer now?"

"Because everybody else has writer's block! None of them have contributed a single idea for two days."

"Liz, do you know how Walt Disney got performance out of his writers?"

"No."

"He abused them. He would constantly change deadlines, hours, pay, and at all times made sure that they knew they were one-hundred percent disposable."

"So your saying I should treat my staff like crap to better results?"

Jack took out his cell phone and dialed a number. "I hate you." He closed his phone. "That was my right hand man."

"Gotcha."

Liz returned to her office, where her fellow TGS writers were laying on the ground, pacing, or playing rock-paper-scissors.

"Alright nerds, the last one to turn in a script to me is fired."

Frank and Topher ceased their game of rock-paper-scissors. "What?"

"Yeah, you heard me. Fired."

Topher was indignant. "You can't just threaten writer's block away!"

"Oh yeah, well Jack told me that Wa- you know what? No. I don't need to explain anything to you lower peoples. Just make me some TV."

Liz retreated to her office before further comments could ensue. She locked the door behind her, then turned around and saw that Tracy was in her chair. Had she been older, she would've had a heart attack. Or, as Dr. Spaceman would say, a soulsplosion.

"Tracy, what are you doing here? Jeez, you almost gave me a soulsplosion."

Tracy folded his hands. "Word on the street is you guys haven't been able to think of any new stuffs."

"How is that on the street?"

"But I believe that I can be of some assistance. The reason that you can't think of anything to write about is because you guys never _live life. _I mean, what are you going to write about, producing an NBC comedy? That can't be a show."

"Well, I-"

"So that's why you're going to spend the day with me."

"Tracy, I really don't think-"

Tracy picked up his phone. "Dot Com, cancel all of my appointments... no, that shark can just go in with all the other fish." Tracy shut his phone. "Let's go."


	2. HorrorPanicDeath

**Author's Note: **Yeah! Chapter two!

Tracy and Liz sat down on Tracy's couch, and Tracy turned on the T.V.

"Tracy, what the heck is this?"

Tracy put a finger to his lips. "Shush."

The two watched in silence for several minutes. Tracy stared at the screen intensely.

"Tracy, this is professional checkers."

Tracy turned to Liz, his eyes watery. "No it's not! You don't know _anything_!"

The two sat in silence for several more minutes.

Tracy turned off the T.V. "Well, if you insist. C'mon, let's go."

Jonathan stepped into Jack's office. "Mr. HorrorPanicDeath in to see you, sir."

Jack looked up from his desk. "What?"

Jonathan looked at his clipboard. "Oh, sorry, he rescheduled. Mr. Sane in to see you, sir."

Jack nodded. Mr. Sane stepped in, and took a seat. He was a very fashionable man, wearing a fedora and sporting some J Crew model stubble.

"I'm sorry, but you're going to have to remove that hat." said Jack.

Mr. Sane set down a small case. "Um, why?"

"Because I hate it." answered Jack.

Mr. Sane took off his hat. "Mr. Donaghy, I have for you here what could very well be the single biggest problem in America." Mr. Sane took an iPad out of his case. He turned it on, and the screen lit up into a slowly rotating 3-D pie-chart.

"What's that?" asked Jack, already becoming impatient.

"Obesity."

"Isn't Michelle Obama getting on that? Oh wait, the government sucks."

Mr. Sane nodded. "Exactly. Everybody's been getting on the 'go green' train, but few companies have boarded the 'go lose some fat' train, and I think that it's about to leave the station."

Jack stood up and pointed at Mr. Sane. "That's a great metaphor."

"Tracy, this is the fifth lap we've taken around the hallway, and nothing's happened."

Tracy stopped. "That's weird. I do this every morning, and usually I run in to Liz and have a short yet interesting conversation that sets the tone for my day." Tracy shrugged. "There's other stuff to do. Sometimes I watch Grizz and Dotcom's afternoon chess match."

Soon, Tracy and Liz were back on the couch, Grizz and Dotcom in front of them engaged in what had become a very tense game.

Dotcom smiled. "I see your inability to take care of your pawns has left you with few late game options once again."

Grizz leaned back in his chair and folded his hands across his chest.

Dotcom chuckles.

"Overconfident as usual. Remind me, who won the last three games?" said Grizz.

"And maybe you could remind me who went to the New York championships _twice_?" said Dotcom.

Tracy shook his head. "Nerds. C'mon, Liz." They left the room.

"So this is really what you do all day, huh?" asked Liz.

"No. I only do this on Tuesdays."

Liz did a quick double-take. "Tracy, it's Monday."

Tracy spun to face Liz. "What?"

"Yeah, it's Tuesday."

Tracy narrowed his eyes, then began walking intently down the hall.

Kenneth walked up to Liz. "This is bad, Liz."

"Why? What is Tracy even doing?"

"Well, it seems as though Tracy has been misinformed about the current day of the week."

"So?" Liz could tell that this was probably going to lead to bad things for her.

Kenneth chuckled, then smiled. "Well, you know how he is when _that _happens."


End file.
